Facets
by Farelios
Summary: Imagine the Prize as not a career choice, but a mere copy. A vessel filled with the Avatar's power, shaped as a pilot, yet lacking the memory, bonds and biases of the original. Then again, there's a perfect storyteller not two steps away to fill in the blanks. A deeper look into a simple question of: "Who are you?"
1. Eva

My name is Eva Wei and I won the Great Race of Oban.

Sounds grand if you put it like that, isn't it? Something to tell your kids about, or write a book. The Avatar himself inviting representatives from any breed or race willing and able to take part, and a stunning victory in the face of overwhelming odds by the Earth team. Amongst so many competitors, some beyond comprehension by fragile mortal minds, a stowaway turned pilot persevering and lasting until the very end at the Origin of the World. Most striking picture, don't you agree?

Of course you do. It is even true, in a way. I did all those impossible things, and many more of the less impressive variety. Things that will never make it into print, but maybe - just maybe - will be told to close friends or family in great secret and with even greater embarrassment. How I stole the Whizzing Arrow for my first race, how I wrecked it half an hour later and then countless times again on many tracks of Alwas and Oban. Here would be a great moment to mention mechanics Stan and Koji as well, those poor souls who put the Arrow back together just as often as I scrapped it, always rising to the challenge. From a certain point of view, they were as important to our victory as I was, and no doubt will receive barely a fraction of the fame.

That is, if the whole victory part wasn't a cruel lie and a stupendous mistake. A pawn that turned into a queen is still a piece to be moved as the player desires, no will of her own, in a game that spanned long before you might imagine. A double lie, if you lump the hoax of Ultimate Prize next to my triumph, and I do. But, pardon me, talking about the end when things are just at the starting line for you. You'd fix everything, won't you? Satis said you could; even _he_ agreed. It must be cozy in there, bright and warm. Perhaps I should pick a different beginning, shouldn't I?

* * *

The sun shone brightly on that day, as if trying to chase all the shadows away. Its warmth seeped into your very bones, urging children to play outside and bask in its glory. All but one heeded the call. The press of the crowd was disorienting and overwhelming, people shouting and cheering and laughing from all directions; almost like a singular, giant hive, intent on a specific event before them.

The incident with the Crogs a few years back before I was born had shown everyone how small and populated the galaxy truly was. Even those indifferent to alien life have started to wonder, their interest piqued as to who our neighbors from the stars could truly be. But of course, simply asking was not enough; they wanted to invite them to Earth under a guise of friendship and judge how hard it would be to wage war. Diplomacy at it's finest - far beyond the smarts of a small girl curious to see one such visitor.

Black body and a black cloak - under the blinding sun it was jarring how out of place and truly _different_ the Phil felt. He was a blemish that stood out and sent goosebumps crawling over your skin, spooky even from within the crowd of all those boring dark suits that surrounded him. Maybe his proportions seemed off, or perhaps his movements too abrupt and decidedly inhuman, I would never know for sure. What I do remember, still, was fear for his opponent.

Maya Wei was a study of contrasts. She was gentle and yet always knew how to push through. She was always kind and yet could tower over a giant when she wanted to; she had a certain spark that lit the way for those who followed her. Magnanimous and benevolent, she was bigger than life, and yet never failed to spend time with her family whenever I wanted her to. Can you imagine the feeling when all you may wish for is already firmly held in your hands? You're content, happy, and slightly surprised it can even be true, much less have come to pass. She was the one to make it reality.

So it was no surprise that when the first interplanetary racing competition was finally agreed upon, she was at the forefront of the human delegation - the fastest pilot on the planet, the most skilled flyer humanity could find to champion our cause. Maya Wei was born a victor, and we always stood beside her. That day was no different.

Only, it was. Somehow, deep in my heart, there was a nagging suspicion, an unabating worry that refused to go away. Like a tide that eclipsed the sun and forced your undivided attention, it hounded me, harassed with premonitions of catastrophe.

I glanced at daddy, then, and he smiled back at me reassuringly. His worn face was covered with worry lines, a mark of years spent handling hundreds of details both minor and crucial. His job was demanding, taking care of troubles and annoyances so that Maya won't have to. Looking at his tired smile, you'd never think there was anything wrong. Yet there was.

"What's his name?" I didn't need to clarify who I meant. Father always knew what I wanted.

"Spirit."

"That's a pretty name," I replied, disgruntled. I felt cheated, like the Phil somehow evaded justice for some unknown crime. Someone so strange and foreboding can't have a nice name, surely? There must be something amiss or out of place with this… Spirit. "He's a pilot, too? How well can he fly?"

"Not good enough. You know mommy never lost a race." My worry must have shown on my face, or dad shared it with me. He hugged me closer. There was a certain note in his voice; a reassurance that everything will be alright, and I believed him. How could I not? Maya was not unlike a god among men, and daddy strived to match her every step of the way. Together, they could take on the whole world.

The sun poured the light upon the Earth, with nary a shadow left under its benevolent gaze. Pity that some shadows stretch far beyond its reach.

* * *

A mistake that nobody could have predicted, they called it in the news. Spirit was bound by the laws of the universe as firmly as any other winged flier would. He did possess a cunning mind, however, diving towards his opponent to latch onto her star racer, coasting on her skill through a sharp turn.

Even if someone could have guessed, though, it would have changed _nothing_. Every story needs a villain, and the hand of this particular one was very subtle. A fuel line breach, seemingly from the grab. A murder, masked by an accident. A killer, never accused.

All of that I will learn later. I didn't care about details, back then. Besides, they told me empty platitudes, when I've finally gathered my courage to ask. They treated me as a child I was. Cooed at Little Eva, trying to repair something that was not fixable. Fed me pretty lies when it was not the truth that hurt.

Even so, I knew that something had changed, irreversibly. The Wei family ceased to exist, and when Don left me at the boarding school, I knew he wasn't coming back. I still hoped, of course, every birthday a ritual of stalking the phone, but when he didn't call, I wasn't particularly surprised, either. You cannot deceive your own blood, no matter the age. "Daddy" had become an unlisted casualty of the crash, and so did the trusting, naive Little Eva.

* * *

My name is Eva Wei and I won the Great Race of Oban.


	2. Molly

A false start, again. Little me was not a facet of myself or even wholly a person - just a baby, with generic needs, wants and beliefs you'll find any time, any place all over the Earth in children of that age. She didn't possess a drive to succeed or a stalwart devotion to the cause that defines Eva Wei. She didn't have a goal that encompassed her whole being, or a firm grasp on her limits and a burning need to break through. She couldn't have redefined the impossible, like I did. She has no place on Oban. In certain ways, it is better to let her rest in peace.

Come to think of it, there were similar aspects of me that didn't make the cut. A dreamer who could have spend hours on the rooftop of the boarding school. A smitten Earthen princess that I was with Aikka. A serene observer who could appreciate the beauty of the world.

And then, of course, there was _her_.

* * *

You can always tell a school from any other building on Earth - it has a specific sound to it, a certain hum and pitch from people who are no longer kids, but not adults yet, either. They talked to each other, they shouted, they whispered, and long stark hallways echoed, mixed and twisted the words into a veil that covered the whole campus. It created an almost palpable pressure that you learned to live with constantly, never truly alone, not even at night. A pressure that I hated, not so much because it was overwhelming, but because it stirred memories, deeply buried. There was an escape, fortunately, a crutch that became a retreat, a place where no one ever visited and sound didn't carry to. Not that I'll need it today, because this day was special.

"Happy Birthday, Eva!" A vaguely familiar boy in a school uniform waved at me, passing by with a group of friends, his resonant voice cutting through the background clamour with ease.

A soft smile made it to my face - someone remembered, and it was nice to be appreciated, at least once in a year. The smile that lasted all of a minute, before the boy was distracted by a friend.

"Do you know her?" The accursed walls magnified the whisper, as if I was right next to them.

"No, but you'll learn of her eventually. Everyone does. She'll be here next year, camping out on her birthday in a wait of a call that is not coming."

"Poor thing. We should throw a party or something, distract her."

"People tried. She wouldn't come."

Shows what they know, does it? The warmth of acceptance evaporated like dew under the burning sun of my belief. Father was busy, as always, but I had a good feeling about today. Something will change soon, I was sure of it, and nobody will ever convince me otherwise.

* * *

He didn't call, he didn't write, he didn't visit yesterday. Teachers have left me alone, and so did the majority of the student body. Those who didn't, felt my wrath in scathing words that sent them running. Cowards, the whole lot of them. I was better off alone anyway. It was a family matter.

"Hey, Eva! There's a package for you at the front desk."

Something shattered in me, but in a good way - the wait of a decade was _over_. The worry, the concern, the anxiety and distress - all melted away in a torrent of pure, undiluted _emotion_. It was just a dream, but clearly, dreams came true if you wished hard enough, if you focused so sharply as to make your vision reality.

"I have a package for you, yes, but I don't think it was from your dad." Ned, the ancient receptionist with a heart of gold, looked at me with pity from behind his round glasses. He was clearly worried for me, so I stretched my lips into a smile; he was one of the few people I cared about in this God-forsaken place. Better grin, and soothe him with an off-color joke, and never show him how much mere words can hurt.

And they didn't, not truly. I was used to them, after all. One disappointment after the other, and they blur together, wash away until nothing is left but a rod of steel at the very core. The elation abated, leaving me vacant and still, like a sea after the storm.

"Time to pull yourself back together, Eva," I whispered to myself, painstakingly picking up the pieces to reassemble them at my leisure. Not just yet, though. First, I had to find the Important bit. Something to center myself around, an impregnable fortress that nothing will ever touch.

Predictably, my hand reached out for the Stubborn piece. It kept me afloat through the worst tempests of my life, it will do just as well now. Only...

My hand in a real world rose too, with the package from the parts shop still absently gripped in it.

Racing was a hobby, not a centerpiece. Piloting and tinkering were things I liked, but they will never take a place near the adamant rod of Perseverance or the ruined temple of Family. It was junk that deserved to be jostled around during the storms of my life. Not important for _Eva Wei_.

 _You know mommy never lost a race._

My eyes widened in horror. My heart jumped right into the throat and trumpeted with the strength of an elephant herd. My whole body shook so hard I collapsed to the ground, prone under the merciless sun burning spots into my eyes.

So... wrong. All this time, so very, very _wrong_. I was a child when I first looked for the Important bit. Obviously I was egoistic, self-centered and conceited when I picked it. Never it occurred to me to seek something else that will allow me to communicate, to connect, to reach out.

And yet I expected my father to do the same, knowing that mother's death hit him even worse.

No wonder he never called, never remembered. No wonder I was left alone and abandoned. We truly were of the same blood, he and I.

To get anywhere, I had to reinvent myself.

A careless shove scattered the old pieces of my soul. Racing was put in the middle, like a holy grail. What else, now? What did young Don Wei see in Maya that always brought a smile to his face?

I climbed to my feet and ran to my hidden shed, unmindful of the many eyes that may be watching. Recklessness took it's proper place, almost without any conscious effort on my part. Mom never backed off from a challenge because of a little risk. No more caution for me, from now on.

Back in the shed, a dig in the useless junk produced my old backpack. Inside was a box, and hidden in the box were memories - the most precious treasure I was too afraid to leave at school. Newspapers, clippings, magazines, even storybooks. At the bottom, a photo. And everywhere, there were smiles. She smiled next to her star racer, she smiled meeting the press, she smiled at a surprise party. She smiled next to _us_.

I could feel my face splitting into a smile of my own - a real one, that reached the eyes and hurt the muscles, and I affixed it in my mind's eye. I expected to grin a lot and mean it, in the next few days.

But it was merely the effect, not the cause. _Why_ was she always smiling? Was that twinkle in her eye mischief? Curiosity? Playfulness? Defiance? A secret, that only she knew?

Optimism.

Hope.

Slowly but surely, a new castle rose amidst the turbulent sea. Perhaps not as sturdy as it was before, but much more firm. Grounded. A safe haven, instead of a cliff.

I was ready.

* * *

 _As long as we can fly, we still have a chance. I refuse to believe it's the end of the world._

The rocket seat easily cleared the wall. I left behind all the oppressive rules and silly regulations, all the memories of tenacity and dedication. I didn't look back. I had no need of them, anymore. The wind was my guide, now.

I left behind a special spot on the rooftop and a misty shadow of a girl dreaming about a better tomorrow. It was time to stop dreaming and start making dreams reality. I was in charge of my own destiny, now, and that part of my life was officially _over_. Happy Graduation Day, Eva.

Next stop, Wei Racing.

* * *

I wasn't stupid. Not even the new me was stupid enough to believe that everything will suddenly turn into sunshine and roses the moment I saw my father and he saw me. But whatever I was expecting, it wasn't _this_.

"Do I look like a 'man' to you? Can't you see I'm a girl?"

That should have been the first clue that our reunion would not be as easy as I thought. An angry shout with an edge of indignation was not a part of what I envisioned, so I swallowed the rest of my rant and tried for a softer approach.

"This is all a mistake, my name's Eva, I'm your daughter..."

He didn't listen. He left before I could get a word out. Because of a distraction, some malfunction inside the hangar that cut into my explanation like a knife, and just as painful. Some words you cannot simply throw to the wind, like confetti.

A faulty star-racer stood in my way, drawing attention. The old Eva Wei would brush it aside and bull through, unconcerned for petty annoyances. The new me... I questioned myself how mother could have resolved everything with a smile and the solution was obvious.

"What do you mean, twins? You're the head mechanic, and the race is tomorrow! I couldn't care less if they were quintuplets." Dad's voice echoed across the bay, loud and clear. A giggle bubbled up from deep inside me. Nice to see father showing the same temper as I have. Had. Guess a few rants would be okay, in a family like ours.

Another piece of the puzzle slid into place, a bridge between old and new. Patching the seams, healing the scars, making me whole.

The problem with the thruster turned out trivial to fix. Competitive racing circuits like my dad's were always trying to jump over their heads, inch out another tiny bit of speed with upgrades and improvements. You only had to look for something that's not glowing like a Christmas tree...

There! Twist, turn, reconnect... finally, a good pull with a pair of pliers resolved the issue. The faulty piece of metal tumbled to the ground, the sound reverberating in the perfect silence that followed.

I smiled.

Lucky me, the thruster started up at just the perfect time. Dad's cutting words choked in his throat. For all of a second.

"Guess what, you're fired," he finished his phone call and turned back to me.

No more interruptions, no more ambiguities. Time to face the music, dad, a blast from the past. You can't ignore me any longer, because you can't deceive your own blood.

Well?

"Who are you?"

... _What_?

"I'm..." a lost child, seeking warmth. None was forthcoming.

"I'm..." a daughter, hoping to follow in the footsteps of my mother. Who is no longer there for us.

"I'm..." a dreamer, trying to make the dream reality. And failing.

All the pretty castles collapsed, the princess was rudely awakened from her daydream.

 _I'm family._

"Spit it out!"

No, not like _this_. I did not ask mother for advice anymore. A strange sort of clarity settled over me - she was dead, and I was a fool to forget it. My mask of pretense had shattered, and so did Eva Wei underneath, all the way through the core, the first time in ten years.

"We haven't got all day!"

"I'm..." a free spirit, seeking adventure. I stumbled, gravity pulling me down a bottomless pit.

"I'm..." a rigid blade, that cuts through anything. I broke into pieces, turning upon the hand that tried to keep me whole.

"I'm..."

 _Who am I?_

I'm the one to rekindle an old flame. I'm the one to show you how bridges are built. I'm the one to help you understand, because I understood it now, through and through.

I was a daughter, but now I knew what it meant to be _Don Wei's_ daughter.

I knew what I had to do.

All the crumbled pieces of my soul snapped back in place, both old and new twisted and merged into a colorful amalgam of shards. I never cared, hastily assembling something that will not collapse at a touch. The good that I cherished, the bad that I avoided, everything worked as mortar, to save me from the abyss of desperation. I've got work to do, and no time to waste on myself.

Father still wanted an answer. It was easy enough to give. Something to describe a newly created patchwork I've become. I was reborn, today, and it was only appropriate to pick a new name. A quick glance for inspiration provided a flash of brilliance.

"I'm Molly!"

* * *

How the Crog got on Earth undetected, I would never guess. His kind is not exactly welcome, here, even by the most extremist factions. Eva Wei would have raised hell, got all the way to the Avatar and made sure Crogs were disqualified from the Great Race for breaking the Truce. Mother would have taken the Crog by the pointy ear and made him sign the Truce all over again, with a smirk on her face.

I was neither of them, right now.

If a Crog stood between Eva Wei and her father, he would have ceased to exist. A barrel of star-racer fuel would have found it's way to the top of his pitch-black head and set on fire. If a Crog stood between my mother and my father, he would have been swept away by Hurricane Maya.

I was a different person, right now. Kindness was not an empty word, anymore. There were still ways to resolve this conflict semi-peacefully.

The rocket seat rumbled and purred and whistled beneath me, almost as if it was alive, and I shivered from cold wind whipping by. I was both drifting and tethered, both roaming and focused. The decision was made in a snap, without deliberation or self-reflection. Molly was a guardian angel, with little attention spared for such trivial matters. Molly would follow the Earth team all across the galaxy, because family was just that Important to her. Nothing more, and nothing less.

I would follow them, because they were hopeless, without me - the star racer pilot, easily overtaken by his opponent; the gunner boy, aiming center mass, the most thick and protected part of Crog armor; the mechanics, never guessing how powerful the tools on their belts could be, when applied cleverly. They wouldn't last a day in the Great Race if I were to miss it.

I steered crossways, and my mount roared and charged, the Crog sailing into the darkness from the impact. It was his own fault, driving without a seat-belt. He was a big boy, he will survive the fall to be captured and interrogated.

And I... I will lead the Earth team to victory, because racing was in my blood. Father had one interest, one focus now. It was my job as a daughter to _become_ that interest, to catch his eye, again and again, until he is forced to accept me. Oban was a test, and I sure as hell was going to pass it.

Put like that, my future lay crystal clear ahead of me. Clouds dispersed around the Avatar's ship, and stars beaconed from the sky. I answered the call with a smile on my face and a song in my heart.

* * *

My name is Molly, and I will win the Great Race of Oban!

* * *

*/*\\*/*\\*/*\\*/*\\*/*\\*/*\\*/*\\*/*\\*/*\\*/*\\*/*\\*/*\\*/*\\*/*

* * *

A/N: In the memory of Oban novelisation that never saw the light of day: a small character piece that was close enough to the original to encourage some thought, but off enough not to step on any toes if someone with more talent than me does want to make a memoir or chronicle or… something, that will preserve this awesome atmospheric feel O:SR has. You know who you are. Do not let this show be forgotten, please.

Oh, and by the way: God save the galaxy where Eva Wei is the Avatar ;)


End file.
